


sitting in a tree

by milkshakesandmurders



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Sort of AU, Tumblr concept, archie tries to help, betty moves away, but he’s archie and he’s no help, distance and time makes the heart grow fonder, jughead becomes a treehouse restoration enthusiast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 22:45:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15205121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkshakesandmurders/pseuds/milkshakesandmurders
Summary: Betty moves away for college, but the night before she lives, her and Jughead end up in their childhood treehouse. She comes up with an idea — that if when they’re both then thirty, and find themselves single; they meet back at the treehouse.OR...Jughead has always loved Betty; but never told her. After she tells him her wild idea the night before moving away for college; he spends the next twelve years restoring their treehouse in the hope that his best friend and forever love turns up.





	sitting in a tree

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooooo. First of all; let me apologise for the lack of activity on any of WIPs of late. Writing, to be honest, has just been hard.   
> I posted this concept + aesthetic a little while back on Tumblr. It’s recently been reblogged and reached over 400 notes — SAAAY WHAAAAT.  
> Yesterday — inspiration hit.  
> And, here we are. It’s a mini one-shot, and all from dear Jughead’s POV.
> 
> Please, enjoy. xx

[concept + aesthetic on tumblr](https://smoochmejuggie.tumblr.com/post/175367343722/sitting-in-a-tree-bughead-au-concept-it-was-the)

 

* * *

 

It’s three little words that has his heart both simultaneously blooming with pride, and splintering with rejection as the realisation that his lifelong best friend, closest confidant and the girl that holds his now broken heart is leaving Riverdale -- leaving him.

“You got in?” He croaks out, the words barely registering as the sound of his world falling down around him drowns out any noise.

Betty’s eyes snap from the letter in her shaky hands to Jughead. The wordless response she returns tells him enough.

“Betts,” reaching for her, his breath catches for a second as he feels her curl against his side. “That’s amazing….” he murmurs, hoping that his reply and the tone in his voice will hide the pain that’s coursing through his body, because he _is_ happy for her. He _really_ is. Betty has worked hard for this acceptance -- the long hours of study, the extracurricular activities she was doing every day after school, and the constant turning down of offers to join himself, Archie and Veronica for burgers, fries and milkshakes.  
If _anyone_ deserves this -- it’s Betty Cooper.

“I just…” She shakes her head, “I can’t believe it, Jug.”

He wraps his arms around her shoulders, his hand resting on the side of her head, “It looks _pretty_ legit to me, Betts.” He remarks, retrieving the letter from her hands, “You better believe you got in.” Whether he’s convincing himself, or Betty -- he can’t be sure.

But, the words are there in front of him -- like the neon lights of Pop’s, shining brightly and lighting up the car park on a Saturday night.   
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

The weeks following are a blur for Jughead. The core four, alongside a handful of others from their graduating year spend their days at Sweetwater River, their nights at Pop’s or the Twilight Drive-In, whilst making plans for Betty’s farewell gathering in between. As much as he tried to get out the planning process, if it wasn’t Veronica shooting daggers at him from across the table at Pop’s -- it was Betty herself, jutting out her lower lip and giving him those green doe eyes that she knows he can’t say no to.

“Now, you see, Betts.” he starts, “That, right there,” he leans forward, his finger making a circle in front of her eyes, _“Is just not fair.”_

“It’s not. I know. But, it works, Juggie. It’s been years, and you’ve never once said no. So, why stop now?” she counters. “Plus, we both know it likely won’t work as well over Skype or FaceTime. I need to take advantage of it whilst I can!”

_Ouch. She’s not wrong there._

Jughead shrugs, there’s no point in arguing really, “Yeah, righto.” He concedes, removing his beanie for a moment, running his fingers through his now sweaty hair, “What do you need me to do?”

After giving him a list of errands; ranging from collecting bags of ice to buying corn chips from the supermarket, Jughead sets off to the store. Just as he curls his fingers around the door handle of Fred’s truck, he feels someone grip his arm.

“Relax, Jughead.” Veronica teases. “I’m not about to mug you.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “What do you want, Lodge?”

Rolling her eyes, she folds her arms across her chest and quirks an eyebrow, “You’re rude, you know that, right? I’ve known you for years now, Jughead. I still don’t quite know why you’re so cold and stand-offish, but, I don’t really want to get into a deep dive of the workings of your mind right now…”

Jughead raises his eyebrows, “So….” he urges her to continue. “I have things I need to do, Veronica. Get on with it.”

She shakes her head, and her shoulders fall ever so slightly, and he can’t help but notice the shift across her face, “I want to ask if you’re going to tell her. I mean, there’s a huge part of me that wants you to, _oh so badly_. But, she’s leaving, Jughead. I worry for both of you. I want you to be able to tell her, but I worry what the effect will be.”

Jughead shifts uncomfortably, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She laughs at that. “Okay, Jughead. Just remember, it’s not just your feelings on the line here.” Veronica offers a small smile, and even smaller shrug. “Hurry back. People will be arriving in the next couple of hours.”

Once the door of the Cooper house firmly closes behind Veronica, he slumps against the truck. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he can feel it in his ears. His head falls back, and he lets out a frustrated groan, “ _Fuck_.” he mutters, before pulling open the door and climbing in.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

Betty’s farewell gathering is in full swing; the drinks are flowing, the food is plentiful and the room is filled with an overall happiness and a sense of accomplishment. The speeches were emotional; everyone noting that Alice probably had one-too-many glasses of champagne, whilst Hal thought it was a great opportunity to open his bag of dad jokes.

Jughead had to admit; they were good. They were cringeworthy, of course -- but he laughed, and tonight, he needed to laugh.

As the hours passed, and the guests dwindled down, Jughead couldn’t ignore the anxiety that was bubbling away beneath the surface. Veronica was right -- and he hated admitting that.  
He wanted to tell Betty how he felt, but it wasn’t just his feelings he had to think about. In less than twenty-four hours, Betty would be farewelling not only Riverdale, but him.

Before he could fall any deeper into that train of thought, for the second time that day, he felt a hand firmly grip his arm and start pulling him away. Registering that this time it wasn’t Veronica, but it was none other than Betty, he smiled to himself.

“Betts, where are we going?” he sputtered, as she pulling him toward the back door of the Cooper house. “Pwoah, slow down. You’ve still got guests inside, Betty.”

“Jug.” she stopped in her tracks. “ _Those_ guests that are left,” motioning toward the house, “Are guests of my parents. You, V and Arch were here tonight. That’s all I care about. And two of those people have left already, so…”

Jughead swallowed hard, “Okay.”

Once it clicked where they were headed, he let out a soft chuckle, “The treehouse, Betts?”

Letting go of his hand, “This is _our_ place, Juggie. If I could have, I would’ve had my last night in here. But, there’s no way four us would fit in here. Realistically.” Giggling at her own observation, Betty reached for his hand once more. “So, it’s just you and me now.”

Following Betty up the questionable ladder, he squeezed his eyes shut and willed his teenage hormones to control themselves once he noticed how tight her jeans were, and how round and _nice_ her behind looked in said jeans. Climbing up onto the landing, he lingered as Betty pushed the door open and walked inside. Shaking himself, Jughead realised, he should’ve been the one to do that -- to check to see if there were any murderers, or worst yet, spiders. But, as quick as the thought surfaced, his next thought was _it’s Betty Cooper, the modern day Nancy Drew of Riverdale, she’s probably tougher than me, anyway_.

Ducking his head as he walked through the treehouse door, his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the space. “Looks a bit different now, huh?” he observed, his eyes taking in the old posters that littered the walls, and the old couch in the far corner, to the stack of comic books on the makeshift table.

“It’s definitely smaller now that we’ve grown up.” Betty mused. “C’mere” gesturing him to sit next to her on the floor.

“Yeah, the floor looks far nicer than that old thing.” He jokes, his head motioning toward the couch.

A comfortable silence fell between them, their breathing the only noise in the small space.

“This is it.” Betty whispered. “It doesn’t feel real, Jug. What if I mess it up?”

The sob in her voice painfully evident, and it tugs at his heartstrings. “Betts,” turning to his side facing her profile, “You’re not going to mess it up. You’re Elizabeth Cooper.”

“And, this what I’ll miss the most, Juggie.” she turns to face him, reaching for his beanie. “You always know what to say. There were so many nights spent right here, with you, after I had a fight with either Mum or Polly. You were right here, reading me stories.” His eyes follow her fingers, as they play with his beanie in her hands. “Reminding me that this is just a speedbump.”

“Sounds like I should take my own advice, huh?” He jokes, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Juggie,” her voice barely a whisper, but so loud in his ears, “I’ve been thinking…” still playing with his beanie, his security blanket, “What do you think about us coming back here, if we’re both still single and thirty?”

Jughead didn’t even try to bite back the laughter that erupted, “Betty.”

The silence that was comfortable, was now far from. When he asked her to repeat what she said.

“You heard me,” she teases, throwing his beanie back at him, “If we’re still single when we’re thirty, we come back here.”

Placing his beanie firmly back on his head, his eyes scan hers for any signs of a joke, but finds nothing, “You’re actually serious?”

Before he has a chance to register what’s unfolding, he feels her warm, soft lips pressed against his check, and her breath on his skin, “I’m very serious, Forsythe.” Betty whispers. “Midnight, here, in this treehouse, twelve years from today.”

As she pulls away, Jughead feels himself shrink into his own skin, her green eyes piercing his baby blues, the corner of her mouth lifting ever so slightly. “See me off tomorrow, Juggie?”  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

The next afternoon, as Betty waves goodbye from the backseat of Alice’s station wagon, Jughead stands in the Cooper’s driveway -- wishing how fast can the next twelve years go…  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

Over the next six years; they managed to keep contact -- phone calls, emails, SMS’s, FaceTime, Skype and the occasional visit when their calendars allowed. Eventually, their lives moved in opposite directions. Betty finished her studies, landed a full time job and eventually started dating-

“I’m going on a date, Juggie.” she said nervously, “His name is Harry, and he’s really nice. I think you’d like him!”

Jughead doubted that, very much. “That’s great, Betts.” he lied, “I’m sure he’s nice. If he’s not..” Jughead inched closer to the screen, “You tell me, yeah?”

Betty giggled at that, and Jughead once again, felt his heart splintering inside his chest.

 

Harry didn’t last. Six months, at most. Jughead tried to hide his delight at the news, but when Betty didn’t seem too fussed at the loss -- any guilt he felt disappeared.

Jughead attempted to date; giving into the demands of Archie-

“Dude, _everyone_ is using this app!” he insisted, reaching for Jughead’s phone, “Lots of single girls!”

“Arch,” attempting to grab his phone back, only to receive Archie’s hand on his face pushing him away, “I don’t need to date!” Jughead’s argument was futile. Archie had downloaded the dating app, and was setting up his profile.

“It’s been years, Jug. Betty’s dating, she’s working. You need to,” Archie looked up at his friend, “...move on.”

Jughead tried, really. He went on dates, nice dates, simple dates. Movies, dinners and walks. But, the end result was the same. They just weren’t Betty.  
.  
.  
.  
.

.

When FP announced his retirement, the ownership of Riverdale’s only bar fell into Jughead’s hands. He welcomed the distraction. Owning a business, it turns out, is time consuming, and he loved it. Archie backed off from trying to run his love life, and it gave him time (when the bar was quiet) to look into the restoration of the treehouse.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

The following years had Jughead saving what money he could, working the bar during the week and fixing up the treehouse on weekends -- thanks to the help of Fred and FP, and the reluctant help of Archie -- just a week out from when he was due to meet Betty, the treehouse was ready.

“Jug, it looks great.” Fred says, almost wistfully. “You know, she’ll be there.”

“I hope so, Fred. I’ve spent far too too many hours fixing it up to just have it sit here and rot again.” He clenches his jaw at the thought of the hours he had spent finding material and resources fixing up his childhood safe haven. Jughead had to accept that if Betty didn’t turn up; he could at least take some pride in what he has done.

“Thanks, Fred.” He says quietly, his arm reaching around the man he sees as his second dad, “Between you and Dad, and Archie, I couldn’t have done this without any of you.”

Fred lets out a hearty chuckle, “The heart will make a man do weird and wonderful things, Jug.” Pulling him in for an embrace, Fred mentions that he has to go to the shops, and with some final words of positive wisdom, he turns and heads toward his truck.  
.  
.

.  
.  
.

Jughead unashamedly counts down the days until he’s due to climb the ladder of the treehouse; the feeling of potentially letting go of Betty for good is somewhat overwhelming. He struggles to sleep, he drinks too much coffee to make up for the lack of sleep and tries his hardest to avoid anyone and everyone -- thankfully being the owner of a business means if you don’t want to work, you don’t have to work. He knows the entire thing is crazy; it was an idea concocted by two silly drunk teenagers. It was an idea that only one other person knew; but it was that very same idea that kept that little flicker of hope alive and burning.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

Standing at the bottom of the ladder; his hands are sweaty, his heart is racing and his mouth is dry. Lifting one hand above his shoulder, grabbing one of the rungs of the ladder -- Jughead commences his climb. Firmly planting his boot onto the landing, he pulls out his phone and looks at the time. It’s just past midnight, twelve years to the day when Betty had announced her grand idea. Jughead slowly walks over the doorway of the treehouse and gently pushes it open.

Feeling all the air leave his lungs in one deep inhale, Jughead tries to speak, but it’s almost like his brain malfunctions and there’s so signals to reach his mouth. His chest heaves, and his instantly wishes he had his beanie.

“I wasn’t sure you’d turn up, Jug.” she whispers, chewing her lip. “I might have gotten here a little earlier.” Betty inches closer, reaching for his hand, she rubs the pad of her thumb of his knuckles, “Looks a little different now. I like it.”

Jughead swallows, “I had a good reason to fix it up.”

Betty lowers her head slightly, but it’s too late, he’s already spotted the blush creeping over her cheeks and down her neck to meet her chest.

“Jug…”

“Betts,” both his hands reach up and cup either side of her face, lifting her head ever so slightly. “I was always going to be here. You never had a reason to think otherwise.” Letting out a low sigh, Jughead continues. “It’s been you for a very, very long time. I can’t think of a time when I didn’t love you.”

Betty gasps.

“I should’ve told you years ago, but..” he licks his lip, but before he can finish his sentence, Betty’s lips are on his, soft and sweet.

“I love you, Juggie. We both should’ve said something. But, here we are. Today. Right now. And that’s all that matters.”

Pulling Betty’s mouth back to his, he lets out a soft groan as her hands find purchase on his waist. Their kiss turns hungry, heated and passionate.

Betty pulls away, breathless and flustered. “We’ve got lots to catch up on, Juggie.”

“Pop’s?” He offers.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Reaching for his hand, she leads him out of the treehouse, “can we come back tomorrow?”

“This isn’t going anywhere, Betts.”

“Good, because either am I.”

  
fin.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your thoughts...  
> The original concept I posted on tumblr received A LOT of love. So I’m really hoping this lives up to those expectations— because I’m lowkey scared they won’t.
> 
> And that’s one of the real struggles I’ve been dealing with for a good couple of months now when it comes to writing.
> 
> Leave me a comment with your thoughts. It would really truly mean the world to me.
> 
> ALSO. Bring on S3 of Riverdal3!


End file.
